Well, 4.10 did lots of things to me, and they kind of all spilled out into this mess. You could see Elizabeth's inner conflict when she suggested the deal in Afghanistan, how it was the best option diplomatically but would also eliminate the very thing she stands for from the Afghani government. All her interactions with the women in this episode were so beautifully done and felt genuine, and tough, and real. Anyway, word vomit to follow. I hope you like it, please leave me a review if you do, it means the world.
He sees the little sliver of pink poking out from between the folds of his blazer when he unzips his suitcase in the embassy bedroom, and can't help but smile to himself.
He pulls out the glasses and runs his thumb over the frames, his thoughts filled with glimpses of her, sitting on their bed, the glasses perched on her nose, reading a book. The pink reading glasses are the ones she only wears at home — she has a tortoiseshell pair for work that stays in her briefcase and admittedly looks more dignified than fuchsia and white dots — but they're her favourite, and he feels a little pang in his heart at the fact that they're now in the US embassy in Afghanistan, and not with her. Because that means that he's in Afghanistan too, away from his wife and children, waiting out a military operation in an unstable country.
He hates that this is the second time in recent weeks he's been away from her, the second time she's had to fear for his safety. He hates the fact that they've both come to a place where they understand their respective jobs put them in danger. That mad dashes across the world often involve a situation room update, where her worry is palpable as she stands between four-star generals and the leader of the free world. She's split, in those situations, between two versions of herself: the Secretary of State and Elizabeth, one concerned for the greater good and the other just worried about her husband making it home safe and sound.
When he does come home — after his wife has brokered a deal which sets Afghanistan on the path toward stability — he's greeted by his children, swept up in Ali's latest designs. His heart swells with pride as he flips through the sketches and he sees his middle daughter beam, and his son express genuine interest in his sister's work. When he pulls out a sketch for a long, flowing dress and matching hijab, his breath hitches briefly and he thinks about Elizabeth, and Amina, and all the other women out there whose futures are both brighter and darker because of this new attempt at peace.
She comes home a little later, and immediately gravitates toward their daughter, kissing Ali's head and fawning over her sketches. He thinks that she may be compensating just a little, filled with guilt over the fact that Afghanistan had been a compromise. He knows that she's aware of the significance, and the possibility for change in the future, but he also knows that his wife will be privately grieving the lost generation of Afghani women politicians. He knows he will be to.
It's much later when she finally enters their bedroom. She'd spent more time with the kids, and he'd gone up a little while ago to catch up on some marking that he hadn't had time for in the past few days — with being in a conflict zone and all that. She doesn't look at him for a minute, busy with taking off her blouse and changing into something more comfortable, and he slips off his reading glasses and replaces them with hers.
When she turns around she can't help but laugh, and he cracks a lopsided grin. He holds his paper out way too far and scrunches up his face, acting like he's trying to read through the frames.
"You brought them back again." She turns somber again and looks at him with bright eyes. Her tone is laced with gratitude and something else, and he puts his papers to the side and opens up his arms to her. She sinks into his embrace and just stays there for a bit. It's warm and safe and so far from reality that she thinks she could stay there forever, in her husband's arms.
He pushes her back after a few minutes and brushes a lock of hair from her face. "You did good today." He pecks her lips, corrects himself. "You do good every day."
"But what if it isn't enough? What if they don't let women get elected in five years, ten years? What if I made everything worse?"
"Shh," he whispers, "you didn't. You took a step forward, peacefully, toward a moderate Afghanistan. It's more than any man has been able to accomplish in decades."
She nods, and he knows she'll pretend to be satisfied with his answer, and with her own decision, because rationally, it was the best choice. But he also knows that the idea of conceding to a country without women in government will keep her up tonight.
"Amina is going to lose her job."
He pulls her to his side, wraps his arms securely around her, and lets her let go.
"I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own."
"That's Audre Lorde," he says, and she nods. She picked up his affinity for quotes years ago, but she rarely voices them, unless there's nothing else for her to say. They both grieve that night, for Amina and her fellow Afghani women, who have gained so much but lost a great deal. History never takes a straight course, and the road toward equality took another sideways turn that day.
It's the will to do better, go further for her daughters and women all across the world that will get her out of bed the next morning, and the day after that. It's the thought of a world with women at its helm, the hope of a future that is female, that will fill her with a sense of duty. To herself, to Stevie and Ali, to Daisy and Joanna, to Amina, to all of them.
Ruth Bader Ginsburg once said that "women belong in all places where decisions are being made... It shouldn't be that women are the exception." Elizabeth heads to the State Department the next day, and to the White House, and walks down the hallowed halls of a place that didn't want women for so long. One day, she knows Amina will do the same.